“Look at how much territory the French owned,” you tip the computer toward me, a Wikipedia map taking up half the screen and the other half a study sheet with what looks like 9-point font.
“Oh wow,” I say, squinting, resting my head on your shoulder, “are they the blue?” I never was good at history but you love it so much and you always get quiet when you talk about it, you take it so seriously and I feel like I don’t know nearly enough to have a conversation about it. You chuckle, respond with a head nod and an eye roll. “Didn’t they do the Louisiana Purchase and stuff?” I ask, racking my brain for something smart to say. You shrug, my head moving with your shoulders but I don’t move.
It’s love in the time of finals, and we are killing each other. We are still freshmen in college, fucking up all of our relationships and it’s a miracle our friendship has stayed this strong. But we’ve reached this point. You still call me bro, and I’ll always call you dude, but how do I tell you I love you? Can’t you tell that while we’re studying together all I’m thinking about is resting my ear against your chest? I am dying to hear your heartbeat; I am dying to hear your secrets that you can’t say out loud. Instead I settle for talking about the French even though I know nothing about them. I settle for you resting your hand on my knee for less than a second to tell me to stop procrastinating.
It’s love in the time of finals and we have waited all year for this. We drank away the winter together, and in the spring we drifted apart. Never too much, but just enough to make us realize what we had been missing. Your phone calls when I to be up at 4am the next day were tragic, I wanted to be with you so badly but I didn’t realize I wanted to be with you in that way until a week ago. Reading days started and you said you missed me to my face. And looking you in the eyes I told you I missed you more. You’ve started texting me good night. I wait for those texts some of these nights when I’m up endlessly writing papers and reading. So much reading.
It’s love in the time of finals and the worst part is that it ends in less than 12 hours. You go back to Ohio, and me to Brooklyn, and we try so damn hard to stay in touch this summer. But I’ll be in Vermont for so long, no phone service or computer. If I ask, will you write me letters? Or will you just nod your head and roll your eyes because I don’t know shit about the Louisiana Purchase and you don’t know how to write a letter to me to save your life. We’ll see I guess. I realized I loved you during finals week of my freshman year, and now I wait out the deadend feeling that summer brings. 
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Thought Catalog » Love & Sex
OMG Bacon, Bacon you guys, Bacon! Did you know that if you put Bacon on a dead body it will come back to life? And taste amazing? Bacon is the best thing in the world because it is a food substance and there are literally no other types of food.
Bacon just did two hundred pushups… after a Cross Fit workout… after being shot by a crossbow…while solving the New York Times crossword…the Sunday edition.
Bacon just reformatted all of my hard drives and rebooted my boots. Now my boots gleam with satisfaction and are certified for moonwalks. Bacon just hacked the main frame. The main fucking frame, you guys.
Bacon doesn’t hunt ghosts, ghosts hunt Bacon, but they never, ever find it because Bacon is one elusive mofo. However, Bacon DOES hunt goat ghosts because they are as difficult to hunt as it is to pronounce the phrase “goat ghosts.” Speaking of animals, Bacon has seventeen dogs and there is not a single dog hair on any of its furniture.
Bacon doesn’t need to wear a watch because it is amazing at guessing what time it is and also what time it isn’t Also, Bacon is never late, even if there’s traffic or the subway is just “being weird.” When you are Bacon the subway is never weird. The 9 train still exists for Bacon—so does the 3rd Avenue EL and the Soviet Space Program.
Bacon is incredibly fast and did all of its Christmas shopping in July and Bacon is Jewish. Speaking of being fast, Bacon passed the President’s Physical Fitness Test while it was technically still asleep—even the flexed-arm hang. Speaking of tests, Bacon got a 1600 on the SAT, which is 98 points better than Zack Morris. In fact, Bacon is so gifted that Bacon built a fully-functioning time machine during the exam, went back in time, and took the SATs when there was no writing section. Because fuck. a. writing. section.
Bacon is so good that even Bacon’s favorite food is Bacon. But Bacon never eats Bacon because Bacon has Olympic-level self-control. Bacon has perfectly timed bowel movements and has never cursed in front of its mother. Bacon knows exactly what Bacon is wearing to the wedding, it’s fucking impeccable, and the wedding I’m talking about is Malia Obama’s in June 2025. Bacon is invited solely based on its Presidential Physical Fitness Test scores and the fact that it is the best food of all time, no one can ever deny it, or care about another food ever, even if it kind of makes people seem a little mentally unwell to be that into one food item, because BACON BACON BACON.
Bacon co-wrote all of Fleetwood Mac’s best songs, but didn’t need to take the credit because they were already having enough trouble with infighting. Bacon isn’t some kind of a diva. Also, Bacon is literally a diva and has brought the house down with one of the most acclaimed operatic performances of all time. Additionally, Bacon invented the Diva Cup 2, which is a Diva Cup that just makes your period never exist again without any side effects.
Bacon is zero degrees from Kevin Bacon. Oprah told Bacon all of her secrets, even the one about REDACTED. Bacon’s bathroom has no windows and is never damp. Bacon is a tender, salty lover—the kind that would be able to please even the most powerful man or woman in the world, even, say, Oprah…
Bacon lives in a mansion, but donates all of its money to “Charity,” the genius dog who runs Youtube and selflessly betters everyone’s lives with millions of cat videos. Bacon will let you use its pool whenever you want and Bacon goes away all summer, so it’s kind of like it’s your pool. In addition to a pool, Bacon’s mansion has a gourmet chef that Bacon cooks for while Bacon also listens to the mansion bartender’s problems. Bacon’s butler is Judith Butler. Bacon is so amazing that Judith Butler doesn’t even care that by buttling for Bacon she is performing gender, and in doing so, creating gender.
Bacon never has to choose between flight and invisibility. Bacon’s kids got into Yale. And they are not even born yet. And their grades are terrible. Bacon beat Don Draper in a fight and a love-making fight. That’s right, Bacon is better than a fictional sociopath from the 1960s played by a very talented, attractive man.
Bacon is hot. However, Bacon is also cool. In fact, Bacon is so cool that people with glasses and pants and haircuts have begun moving to it from all over the nation. Yet, it does not gentrify. Your move, The New York Times.
Bacon is Santana’s real reason for reasons. Bacon wrote a hit song about Taylor Swift. Bacon has accurately defined a hipster. Bacon impressed your dad.
You have to love Bacon. Even if you only like Bacon, even if you are just Bacon-neutral and have a normal reaction to foods, even if you’re a vegetarian, or just don’t care for Bacon, you must acknowledge that Bacon dominates your life in every way. There are no other foods, no other things, no other thoughts, there is just Bacon. Pure, unadulterated, Bacon. So eat that.
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Thought Catalog
OMG Bacon, Bacon you guys, Bacon! Did you know that if you put Bacon on a dead body it will come back to life? And taste amazing? Bacon is the best thing in the world because it is a food substance and there are literally no other types of food.
Bacon just did two hundred pushups… after a Cross Fit workout… after being shot by a crossbow…while solving the New York Times crossword…the Sunday edition.
Bacon just reformatted all of my hard drives and rebooted my boots. Now my boots gleam with satisfaction and are certified for moonwalks. Bacon just hacked the main frame. The main fucking frame, you guys.
Bacon doesn’t hunt ghosts, ghosts hunt Bacon, but they never, ever find it because Bacon is one elusive mofo. However, Bacon DOES hunt goat ghosts because they are as difficult to hunt as it is to pronounce the phrase “goat ghosts.” Speaking of animals, Bacon has seventeen dogs and there is not a single dog hair on any of its furniture.
Bacon doesn’t need to wear a watch because it is amazing at guessing what time it is and also what time it isn’t Also, Bacon is never late, even if there’s traffic or the subway is just “being weird.” When you are Bacon the subway is never weird. The 9 train still exists for Bacon—so does the 3rd Avenue EL and the Soviet Space Program.
Bacon is incredibly fast and did all of its Christmas shopping in July and Bacon is Jewish. Speaking of being fast, Bacon passed the President’s Physical Fitness Test while it was technically still asleep—even the flexed-arm hang. Speaking of tests, Bacon got a 1600 on the SAT, which is 98 points better than Zack Morris. In fact, Bacon is so gifted that Bacon built a fully-functioning time machine during the exam, went back in time, and took the SATs when there was no writing section. Because fuck. a. writing. section.
Bacon is so good that even Bacon’s favorite food is Bacon. But Bacon never eats Bacon because Bacon has Olympic-level self-control. Bacon has perfectly timed bowel movements and has never cursed in front of its mother. Bacon knows exactly what Bacon is wearing to the wedding, it’s fucking impeccable, and the wedding I’m talking about is Malia Obama’s in June 2025. Bacon is invited solely based on its Presidential Physical Fitness Test scores and the fact that it is the best food of all time, no one can ever deny it, or care about another food ever, even if it kind of makes people seem a little mentally unwell to be that into one food item, because BACON BACON BACON.
Bacon co-wrote all of Fleetwood Mac’s best songs, but didn’t need to take the credit because they were already having enough trouble with infighting. Bacon isn’t some kind of a diva. Also, Bacon is literally a diva and has brought the house down with one of the most acclaimed operatic performances of all time. Additionally, Bacon invented the Diva Cup 2, which is a Diva Cup that just makes your period never exist again without any side effects.
Bacon is zero degrees from Kevin Bacon. Oprah told Bacon all of her secrets, even the one about REDACTED. Bacon’s bathroom has no windows and is never damp. Bacon is a tender, salty lover—the kind that would be able to please even the most powerful man or woman in the world, even, say, Oprah…
Bacon lives in a mansion, but donates all of its money to “Charity,” the genius dog who runs Youtube and selflessly betters everyone’s lives with millions of cat videos. Bacon will let you use its pool whenever you want and Bacon goes away all summer, so it’s kind of like it’s your pool. In addition to a pool, Bacon’s mansion has a gourmet chef that Bacon cooks for while Bacon also listens to the mansion bartender’s problems. Bacon’s butler is Judith Butler. Bacon is so amazing that Judith Butler doesn’t even care that by buttling for Bacon she is performing gender, and in doing so, creating gender.
Bacon never has to choose between flight and invisibility. Bacon’s kids got into Yale. And they are not even born yet. And their grades are terrible. Bacon beat Don Draper in a fight and a love-making fight. That’s right, Bacon is better than a fictional sociopath from the 1960s played by a very talented, attractive man.
Bacon is hot. However, Bacon is also cool. In fact, Bacon is so cool that people with glasses and pants and haircuts have begun moving to it from all over the nation. Yet, it does not gentrify. Your move, The New York Times.
Bacon is Santana’s real reason for reasons. Bacon wrote a hit song about Taylor Swift. Bacon has accurately defined a hipster. Bacon impressed your dad.
You have to love Bacon. Even if you only like Bacon, even if you are just Bacon-neutral and have a normal reaction to foods, even if you’re a vegetarian, or just don’t care for Bacon, you must acknowledge that Bacon dominates your life in every way. There are no other foods, no other things, no other thoughts, there is just Bacon. Pure, unadulterated, Bacon. So eat that.
You should like Thought Catalog on Facebook here.
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The other night I had that moment. That moment when you realize you are definitely the least attractive friend in the group. After opting out of blowdrying my hair or bothering to wash my pants before work one night, I went out after with one of my female coworkers who is an actress/model type to meet another actress/model type who apparently both had an attractive actor/model type guy waiting for them at the bar that we met at. So I’m wearing my work pants with a sad attempt at adding heels and I’m trying to embrace my naturally curly hair and I’m just feeling really, like…fucking ugly.
I’ve always been a “pretty” girl, not a gorgeous girl, not rail thin, etc. I have naturally curly hair that I have forcibly straightened nearly every day of my life since elementary school… but, I have never had to deal with a large amount of “bullying” have not had a hard time finding guys who were interested in me, just a normal pretty girl who tried to take care of herself. I have certainly dealt with my own insecurities, as we all do, I’ve struggled with eating habits that some would call disorders, I have never gotten over the work out “hump” that hot girls seem to get over to in order get their asses to appear cellulite free and not mind being seen trotting up a canyon in a sports bra.
The girls I was out with this night are great. They’re unique looking, they’re thin, and I’ve seen them eat numerous bowls of pasta that have brought tears to me eyes. (One of them has a wheat allergy which really pisses me off because like, why didn’t I get the fucking wheat allergy?) I’ve seen them eat multiple Mcdonalds meals in one drunk sitting in the backseat of my car and wake up to go to a casting for their asses. Literally.
So we’re drinking and both of them are pretty hands-on with these guys, I’m looking at them and I’m thinking “wow, I have really never felt like THIS much of a fifth wheel.” I usually don’t care if I’m the odd one out, I can usually have a few drinks, talk to some strangers and head home to my dog and my huluplus account, but this, was kind of different. I guess the other wheels aren’t usually all attractive.
We all get this feeling…right? What do we do? Do we find company that makes us appear and feel more attractive? Do we change things about ourselves to make us feel this way? Do we all move out of LA back to our mid country states where we’re definitely the hottest one in the bar?
Some girls could want to slap me and say “I’ve been living in this moment my whole life!”, “You have no idea what it’s like!” etc, etc. But the truth is that it doesn’t matter. When you feel that way it feels really really terrible. I mean here I was walking to get 2 a.m. tacos behind these two gorgeous girls holding hands with these guys and maybe it was just for the night, but you know what? I bet when they woke up and looked in the mirror they’re mussed up hair made them smile and not want to immediately straighten it.
You should like Thought Catalog on Facebook here.
Thought Catalog
The other night I had that moment. That moment when you realize you are definitely the least attractive friend in the group. After opting out of blowdrying my hair or bothering to wash my pants before work one night, I went out after with one of my female coworkers who is an actress/model type to meet another actress/model type who apparently both had an attractive actor/model type guy waiting for them at the bar that we met at. So I’m wearing my work pants with a sad attempt at adding heels and I’m trying to embrace my naturally curly hair and I’m just feeling really, like…fucking ugly.
I’ve always been a “pretty” girl, not a gorgeous girl, not rail thin, etc. I have naturally curly hair that I have forcibly straightened nearly every day of my life since elementary school… but, I have never had to deal with a large amount of “bullying” have not had a hard time finding guys who were interested in me, just a normal pretty girl who tried to take care of herself. I have certainly dealt with my own insecurities, as we all do, I’ve struggled with eating habits that some would call disorders, I have never gotten over the work out “hump” that hot girls seem to get over to in order get their asses to appear cellulite free and not mind being seen trotting up a canyon in a sports bra.
The girls I was out with this night are great. They’re unique looking, they’re thin, and I’ve seen them eat numerous bowls of pasta that have brought tears to me eyes. (One of them has a wheat allergy which really pisses me off because like, why didn’t I get the fucking wheat allergy?) I’ve seen them eat multiple Mcdonalds meals in one drunk sitting in the backseat of my car and wake up to go to a casting for their asses. Literally.
So we’re drinking and both of them are pretty hands-on with these guys, I’m looking at them and I’m thinking “wow, I have really never felt like THIS much of a fifth wheel.” I usually don’t care if I’m the odd one out, I can usually have a few drinks, talk to some strangers and head home to my dog and my huluplus account, but this, was kind of different. I guess the other wheels aren’t usually all attractive.
We all get this feeling…right? What do we do? Do we find company that makes us appear and feel more attractive? Do we change things about ourselves to make us feel this way? Do we all move out of LA back to our mid country states where we’re definitely the hottest one in the bar?
Some girls could want to slap me and say “I’ve been living in this moment my whole life!”, “You have no idea what it’s like!” etc, etc. But the truth is that it doesn’t matter. When you feel that way it feels really really terrible. I mean here I was walking to get 2 a.m. tacos behind these two gorgeous girls holding hands with these guys and maybe it was just for the night, but you know what? I bet when they woke up and looked in the mirror they’re mussed up hair made them smile and not want to immediately straighten it.
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Thought Catalog
First, you get rid of the notion that anything about your life is really at stake. Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. You’re not deciding whether to opt for chemo or not.
That is to say: calm down. We, the young and ambitious, deal almost exclusively with rich white people problems. We’re not going to starve if we make the wrong decision.* There is very little we can’t undo.
Of course, that doesn’t make life-changing decisions any less intimidating or take away the fact that the adults in our lives did next to nothing in the way of preparing us. I think that’s why since I dropped out of school (and wrote about it as it was happening) people have been coming to me as though I have some special insight on making these kinds of calls. Since I did it then and have done it several times since, they think I know the secret. I don’t, but I do have some tricks.
When I get these emails I almost always ignore the specific details and respond with a few simple questions. Stuff like: “What’s the absolute worst thing that could happen?” “What would you miss out on if you did it?” “Are you fighting for a piece of a shrinking dying industry or are you getting something whose value will hold up over time?” I never tell them what to do. I just pose questions.
These are no rhetorical questions, though I am sure they seem that way to someone just looking for advice. I intend for the person to answer them. Think about like a math equation for a second. It seems like a jumble of symbols and unknowns at first, but when you stop, breathe and break it down, the process basically takes care of itself. Isolate the variables, solve for them and all that is left is your answer.
Answer the questions and the right choice becomes clear.
This strategy gives you the single most important tactic when you’re trying to make life-changing decisions:
Get information, not advice. See most people—no matter how wise or successful—give horrible advice. They’ll send you astray. So don’t ask for advice. Ask them for information that you can translate into advice.
Isolate the various issues that will influence your decision and then ask people about that. By zeroing in on specifics rather than the big picture, you avoid the trap of their (distorted) picture. Simplify your decision into [If this] then [x] or [If that] then [y]. Then use the smart people in your life to help solve for the variables.
It’s the difference between asking: “What should I do?” and “Do you know anyone who ran into problems taking some time off from school?” To me, this difference was the world. I asked the latter question to someone when I was dropping out and their answer was brilliant. “Problems?” he said, “I got really sick when I was in college and had to spend a year in the hospital. Do you think that matters at all to anyone 20 years later?”
So try it: What is the worst thing that can happen? Well, it could cost me some money. Ok, well money is replaceable so that’s a stupid reason not to do something with so much potential upside. Is this a once in a lifetime opportunity? Yes. Really, never again? I don’t know… Then you haven’t thought about this enough. And so and so on.
After that, this is what else is important:
-Think about where you want to go, back out your decisions from there. Let’s say you want to be a politician way down the line. Well, what does the biography of a politician look like? Probably some military service, success in the private sector, multiple degrees, clean private life, good connections, rich benefactors, a public profile, one or two key (untouchable) stances, sense of style, etc. Ok, now when you make decisions all you have to do is ask yourself: Does this help me check off any of those boxes? If it doesn’t, it’s probably not the right thing to do.
-Remember to consider opportunity costs.
-”Enter Action With Boldness” and sometimes, you may have “Act Before You Are Ready”
-It doesn’t matter how much other people “get” you, they’ll never fully understand your aspirations so don’t go around expecting them to. It’s too hard for them to see past their own experiences. Prepare to be misunderstood, both when you ask for advice and when you finally take action.
-Scared about making the wrong choice? You won’t ever know if you did. Cognitive dissonance won’t let you.
-Strategy is a matter of options. Generally, the aim is to act in a way that leaves as many possible options open as possible (remember, opportunity costs). Keep this in mind as you make your decision. What gives me the most options? What gives me the most freedom and creates the most opportunities? Do not discount the things you do not yet know are important.
-Books. Books. Books. People have been doing [whatever it is you're deciding about] for a while now. They’ve been moving West, leaving school, investing their savings, getting dumped or filing for divorce, starting businesses, quitting their jobs, fighting, dying and fucking for thousands of years. This is all written down, often in the first person. Read it. Stop pretending you’re breaking new ground.
Finally, don’t feel guilty for asking for help. There is NOT A CHANCE that the successful people you know today didn’t rely on the successful people they knew in order to get where they are. That’s the cycle. It’s why I respond to these emails and do my best to walk people through it however I can. So if you don’t have anyone else to ask, you can also come to me as a last resort. You know where to find me.
*When I made the decision to leave my life behind and write my book, I asked Tucker: “Is there anything I should be worried about when I’m doing this?” His answer: “Nothing about any of this should worry you. It’s all upside.”
You should like Thought Catalog on Facebook here.
Thought Catalog
The other night I had that moment. That moment when you realize you are definitely the least attractive friend in the group. After opting out of blowdrying my hair or bothering to wash my pants before work one night, I went out after with one of my female coworkers who is an actress/model type to meet another actress/model type who apparently both had an attractive actor/model type guy waiting for them at the bar that we met at. So I’m wearing my work pants with a sad attempt at adding heels and I’m trying to embrace my naturally curly hair and I’m just feeling really, like…fucking ugly.
I’ve always been a “pretty” girl, not a gorgeous girl, not rail thin, etc. I have naturally curly hair that I have forcibly straightened nearly every day of my life since elementary school… but, I have never had to deal with a large amount of “bullying” have not had a hard time finding guys who were interested in me, just a normal pretty girl who tried to take care of herself. I have certainly dealt with my own insecurities, as we all do, I’ve struggled with eating habits that some would call disorders, I have never gotten over the work out “hump” that hot girls seem to get over to in order get their asses to appear cellulite free and not mind being seen trotting up a canyon in a sports bra.
The girls I was out with this night are great. They’re unique looking, they’re thin, and I’ve seen them eat numerous bowls of pasta that have brought tears to me eyes. (One of them has a wheat allergy which really pisses me off because like, why didn’t I get the fucking wheat allergy?) I’ve seen them eat multiple Mcdonalds meals in one drunk sitting in the backseat of my car and wake up to go to a casting for their asses. Literally.
So we’re drinking and both of them are pretty hands-on with these guys, I’m looking at them and I’m thinking “wow, I have really never felt like THIS much of a fifth wheel.” I usually don’t care if I’m the odd one out, I can usually have a few drinks, talk to some strangers and head home to my dog and my huluplus account, but this, was kind of different. I guess the other wheels aren’t usually all attractive.
We all get this feeling…right? What do we do? Do we find company that makes us appear and feel more attractive? Do we change things about ourselves to make us feel this way? Do we all move out of LA back to our mid country states where we’re definitely the hottest one in the bar?
Some girls could want to slap me and say “I’ve been living in this moment my whole life!”, “You have no idea what it’s like!” etc, etc. But the truth is that it doesn’t matter. When you feel that way it feels really really terrible. I mean here I was walking to get 2 a.m. tacos behind these two gorgeous girls holding hands with these guys and maybe it was just for the night, but you know what? I bet when they woke up and looked in the mirror they’re mussed up hair made them smile and not want to immediately straighten it.
You should like Thought Catalog on Facebook here.
Thought Catalog » Life
